


Fragments of a life you shouldn't miss

by Melody_Jade



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Disabled Character, Families of Choice, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-07-29 18:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7695652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melody_Jade/pseuds/Melody_Jade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Xavier could have been a great man, an influential man. He could have set up a school for mutants, been a public advocate for mutant rights, played a key role in the human-mutant conflict that raged on outside his home. But sitting out here in the park on a sunny day, watching his son David play with his friends, safe and protected with love and happiness permeating the air around them, Charles couldn't bring himself to regret any of his decisions. Not when they gave him a life with David, and an endless series of moments that he never wanted to miss out on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A brief history of the world, 1962-1973

**Author's Note:**

> This story came out of one thought - what if XMFC!Charles had the chance to be David Haller's father? How would their lives change, and how would the world change? It's going to be completely self-indulgent, heh. I don't know comics canon well at all, and I'm also completely messing up the movie timeline and character ages, so I'm sorry in advance?
> 
> Fair warning: Updates on this is going to be sporadic and infrequent, and they're going to jump all over the timeline. 
> 
> Fic title is taken from All the Way/4u, a song by Poets of the Fall.

* * *

Later, much later, historians will mark October 28 1962 as the day that changed the world. Not because it came after weeks of tense confrontation between the United States and the Soviet Union at Cuba, not because the world came close to a nuclear war on that day, but because on October 28 1962, a man raised a submarine out of the sea with nothing else but the power of his mind. The same man, again with the power of his mind, stopped the missiles that were fired directly at him, and with a mere gesture, reversed their trajectory back to the American and Soviet ships that had fired them. It was only through some strange miracle, some rare (and never again exhibited) sense of mercy that had led him to spare the lives of the soldiers on the ships on that day, and detonated the missiles in the air in a harmless but intimidating display of power instead.

That man, Erik Lehnsherr, now known internationally as the terrorist Magneto, with his power of magnetic fields manipulation, was the first official documentation of what was to become a new, different species of humans - _Homo sapiens superior_. For a couple of years, the knowledge of this new species - _mutants_ \- stayed within the boundaries of the United States and Soviet Union governments, with research and experimentation facilities clandestinely opened in both countries and filled with captured mutants. The nature of international spying meant that soon, the governments of other countries found out about it, and they too started their own facilities.

The existence of these facilities were kept top-secret, and knowledge of their location and the true nature of the research conducted within kept highly classified, and yet, sometimes, these facilities were attacked and the mutants inside released. In the beginning, the attacks were conducted peacefully, with everyone in the facility merely knocked asleep, but more frequently they ended up with all non-mutants being killed and the buildings crumbled to a ball, twisted inward by the force of bent metal scaffolding - Magneto's calling card.

Huge amounts of resources were spent on attempts to hunt Magneto and his associates down, but he was never found and their attacks on the mutant facilities continued, growing in frequency and violence. Until July 4 1970, where Magneto, in what was now his trademark red cape and helmet, levitated a stadium onto the White House of the United States and hijacked an internationally televised event to deliver his message to the world. In the live broadcast, he exposed the existence of mutants with special powers to the whole world, and in his ending message exhorted all mutants of the world to join his Brotherhood, to fight together for the mutants' birthright to rule the world.

The world was forever changed on that day. Magneto's ultimatum divided the world into humans versus mutants, and very soon, battle lines were drawn. In a rare show of unity, governments all over the world - on either side of the Iron Curtain - pledged to co-operate to end this threat against humanity, pooling soldiers and research and resources into this joint venture. On the other side of the conflict was the Brotherhood of Mutants and its ever-growing ranks as more mutants joined day after day, led by Magneto and his trusted lieutenants - the telepath Emma Frost and the shapeshifter Mystique.

There was a third camp, made up of people - both humans and mutants - who campaigned for integration and a peaceful co-existence, led by the married couple Sean Cassidy and Moira MacTaggert. Their efforts for peace were for naught though. As the debates grew more heated, as the confrontations grew more violent and casualties started piling up, the world slipped closer and closer to an all-out war. With the bombing of a peaceful mutant enclave in San Francisco, the conflict escalated to its breaking point, and in August 12, 1973, the Mutant War began.

* * *

 


	2. Strategy meeting (August 1977)

* * *

The year is 1977, and the Mutant War raged on.

The Brotherhood of Mutants operated from the shadows, making use of guerilla war tactics to ambush research facilities and holding cells where mutants were held and imprisoned, performing strategic attacks and assassinations on key personnel in the coalition of international armed forces. With each passing year, more joined their ranks of the Brotherhood, either those who were freed from prisons, or who were disillusioned from the treatment of their fellow mutantkind, or who were ostracized and had nowhere else to go. Their special mutant abilities gave them an edge over the Coalition, but they were still outnumbered by the sheer numbers of the world's military and their vast resources. The war was at a stalemate, with neither side giving ground.

Some mutant abilities were more suited to war than others, and over time and battles, those mutants rose quickly through the ranks of the informal mutant army that had amassed around Magneto's banner. Those who had distinguished themselves enough were singled out and invited to the Brotherhood's War Council and their strategy meetings.

The War Council comprised of the old guard, the original mutants that comprised the first Brotherhood and still retained leadership - Magneto, Mystique, The White Queen Emma Frost, Azazel. There were also those who had joined the Brotherhood over the years, and now led team missions - Gambit, Toad, Warpath, Storm, Wolverine, to name just a few of them of them - each of them powerful mutants with great feats of heroism and strength attached to their names.

Sean Cassidy, once the leader of the integrationist movement, sat on the War Council too. Once opposed to the war, he and many of his associates had joined the mutant cause after a peaceful protest organized by the integrationists had turned bloody when the human military had attacked them, making no distinction between humans or mutants, armed violence or peaceful protest. His wife and co-leader, the human Moira MacTaggert, had gone into hiding afterwards while Sean Cassidy had sought refuge with the Brotherhood, citing a common goal to end the war as soon as possible.

Bobby Drake, code-named Iceman for his power of ice manipulation, sat in a underground bunker with many such luminaries of the mutant war right now, feeling just a little bit awestruck and very much out of place. As a young man, alone and ostracized, he had been inspired by them and joined the mutant cause to fight for a better future for their kind. He never thought he would sit in the same room as them, but yet, here he was. He and some other youths had been personally nominated by their team leaders as having proven their strength and worth in battle, and today in one of the Brotherhood's many secret locations, they were invited to participate in the War Council for the first time.

The other newcomers other than himself were Pyro, Psylocke, Cyclops, Phoenix, the twins, and Legion. Bobby had interacted with some of them before - he found Pyro abhorrent (they got on exactly like fire and ice) and Psylocke standoff-ish, so conversation with them was a definite no. The twins Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch sat off at a corner alone, wrapped up in each other as usual, and Bobby knew better than to intrude.

So instead, he made his way to where Cyclops, Phoenix and Legion sat together. Bobby had worked with Cyclops and Phoenix before, and knew them both to be incredibly powerful, yet down-to-earth and friendly, even if Cyclops had initially seemed arrogant. Both of them now acknowledged him with nods and smiles, and a telepathic welcome from Phoenix as she gestured for him to sit with them.

As for the third person in that group... Bobby had only known of Legion by reputation alone, and it was an impressive one. From what he'd heard, that man could very well be one of the most powerful mutants in the world. He wasn't sure what exactly Legion's mutation was, but it gave him possession of a suite of abilities that he was able to switch between with ease, abilities that include telepathy, telekinesis, pyrokinesis, teleportation, super-strength, and many, many more. The gossip about Legion was full of stories of how an obscure power of his had saved the day in dangerous confrontations with the Coalition, and it was obvious enough why he was called Legion. He was also known to be belligerent and unpredictable, but loyal to those he considered his friends.

Bobby caught Legion's eye and stuck out his hand to introduce himself, "Iceman." Legion studied him for a few seconds, and Bobby felt a little tickle at the back of his mind, a tell-tale sign of telepathy, before Legion rolled his eyes and shook his hand. "You're seriously introducing yourself by the ridiculous codenames they insist on giving us? Come you, admit you hate it. It's good to meet you, _Bobby_. I'm David."

Bobby raised his eyebrows in shock. While it's true that he preferred the use of his actual name when they were not in battlefield conditions, one of the most important rules of the Brotherhood was that everyone used their codenames. Embracing your mutant identity and all that. To hear such outright insubordination was very rare, and Bobby decided that Legion was either suicidal or very, very reckless.

Before they could talk more, Magneto swept into the room in his trademark red cape, and the meeting began. It was a whirlwind of information and strategies, with many strongly differing opinions, and Bobby could hardly keep his head straight absorbing everything. Looking around him, he could see the rest of the newcomers doing the same, bodies leaned forward and eyes alert as they tried to keep up with the discussion. Everyone except Legion, who sat slumped in his seat with his eyes closed, as though he was just taking a nap.

During a lull in the discussion, Magneto turned to their little huddle of newcomers, and the force of his intimidating gaze was enough to cause everyone to snap to attention, except for Legion, who continued to slouch in his seat, projecting both telepathically and by his body language that he could not care less about the meeting.

"Legion," Magneto barked, "most people consider it an honor to be invited to these meetings, and they pay attention during them. If you are not interested, you are free to go. There are plenty of other mutants who will be interested in taking your place."

Legion's eyes snapped open, and he gave a little snort. "First of all, don't call me Legion. That's not my name. And second, how do you know I wasn't paying attention?" With that he rattled off a summary of all the key points that the meeting had covered so far, and grinned cheekily at Magneto when he finished. "Good enough for you, old man?"

"Impressive," Magneto acknowledged with a short nod, eyes still narrowed. "But I advise you to keep that attitude in check. Having a good memory doesn't meant that you still haven't got a lot to learn. And over here in the Brotherhood, we all go by the new names we've chosen that represent our mutant selves, not the names that the humans gave us. Here, you're Legion. Who you were previously matters no longer."

Legion gave a derisive laugh. "I didn't even choose the name Legion. Some idiot gave me that nickname after seeing what I can do, and I hate it. You want me to go by the name I've chosen? That's going to be my actual name, my human name, as you call it. That's the name I'm most proud to bear, and I'm not going to act like I'm ashamed of it."

The room was tense. Few people, human or mutant, dared to challenge Magneto, since the consequences whenever a person did so were always dire. Mystique, who was sitting beside Magneto, leaned forward at her seat, poised as though to restrain Magneto should he lose his temper and strike. On his other side, The White Queen was just studying Legion, the expression on her face puzzled, as though she was trying to figure out something about him. Everyone else was silent and still, unwilling to draw attention to themselves as they watched the confrontation between Magneto and Legion.

Magneto's face was thunderous, and his voice when he spoke was soft and dangerous. "Why don't you enlighten us what exactly is this name that you're so proud to bear then?"

Legion smirked, and Bobby somehow got the feeling that Legion had Magneto exactly where he wanted him, that he meant for this confrontation to happen. Bobby also noticed that Phoenix and Cyclops, who sat next to David, had straightened their backs and there was something like anticipation thrumming within them. Behind them, Cassidy and Havok moved closer to Legion, as though offering silent support.

Legion finally straightened from his slouch, and he met Magneto's glare head-on. "My name is David," he said, voice loud and clear. His eyes slid to Mystique for just a moment before returning to Magneto as he continued, "David Xavier."

* * *

 


	3. A Bitter Parting (July 1970)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the non-linear narrative tag - chapters are not in chronological order and will jump around the timeline a lot. 
> 
> This chapter is set just a few days after the White House Incident as described in Chapter 1.

* * *

The request came by way of Emma, who swept into the meeting room a few days after the White House Incident (as it came to be called) and told Erik and Mystique, "Xavier contacted me telepathically. He wants to talk to the both of you."

It wasn't the first time such a request had been made. Over the years, they had been in sporadic contact with Charles's group. They had met occasionally at the sites of mutant research facilities in the years following Cuba, but after the fire at the Westchester mansion and his presumed death, Charles and his group had withdrawn from field missions. The first time he'd contacted Emma telepathically was to let them know that he had faked his death. More recently, barely a year ago, he had once again reached out to them through Emma, specifically to ask for Azazel's expertise in a 'delicate matter', as he put it.

Azazel had agreed to help, wanting to help mend fences between his wife and her brother. He had come back battered and bruised, with short-term memory loss, unable to remember anything of the time that he spent with Charles or what he did for him.

Mystique had never forgiven Charles for that.

Now, her face twisted into the bitter angry look that she always wore when reminded of Charles, and she stood so quickly up from the chair that it toppled, crashing hard on the floor. "I'm not interested in anything he has to say," she said, before storming out of the room.

For one moment, Erik contemplated following her out.

But this was Charles, and Erik could never deny an opportunity to see him.

* * *

Charles had requested for them to meet that night at the Westchester mansion. So at the appointed time, Erik had Azazel teleport him to the site. Azazel had transported him a distance away, still too wary of Charles to go much nearer, so Erik had to levitate himself for the rest of the distance.

It was a hot summer night, and the air itself was still. The area was deserted with only the moonlight guiding his way.

As always, the sight of the charred ruins of the once grand mansion took his breath away. The fire that raged here had been intense, he could tell, from the scorched appearance of the ground and the blackened, twisted lump of what used to be the mansion's foundation. No one had tried to clear the ruins, or even claimed the land for themselves. The locals called the place cursed, and gave it a wide berth.

Mystique had been devastated when she found out about the fire, and Charles's supposed death. That was back when their relationship had merely been complicated and strained, back when there was still more love than hate, back before Charles had played with her husband's mind and wiped his memory. Now the relationship between the siblings was similarly reduced to ashes.

As he neared, he could sense the metal of Charles's wheelchair, waiting for him at the fence where Erik had moved the satellite dish so long ago. That summer together had been one of the happiest periods of Erik's life. Back then, everything was beautiful and full of hope, things with Charles were new and yet passionate, and for that few short months Erik had dared to let himself be just a little happy.

He reached the fence, and Charles, who had been gazing out into the field and the satellite dish, said "Hello Erik," and wheeled himself around. Erik's approach had been silent, and he still wore the helmet, so he had no idea how Charles knew he was there. Perhaps some part of him resonated whenever Erik was near, just like how Erik still does when near Charles, even if it had been so many years since that halcyon, whirlwind happy days that they had spent together here.

Charles looked older, with more grey hair in his temple and wrinkles on his brow, but he sat tall in the wheelchair that Erik had put him in, and his eyes were still the same brilliant blue. Erik's traitorous heart skipped a beat, and for one moment, he was nearly undone with emotion.

He reined in his emotions with some difficulty. While he doubted that he would ever love anyone the way he loved Charles, their time had long since passed. When he was sure his voice wouldn't shake, he replied. "Hello Charles."

Charles peered behind Erik, and when he looked back at Erik again he seemed disappointed. "Raven didn't come?"

Erik made a derisive snort. "After what you did to her husband Azazel? You know she wouldn't come, Charles."

Charles's face twisted for a moment, and for a moment the devastation was written clearly on his face, but he pulled himself together quickly. "Tell me she's doing alright, at least?"

"She's thriving. She's where she always should have been, living her life as she was meant to."

Charles nodded once, resigned, and silence descended on them, as thick and oppressive as the heat of the summer night, and Erik had to break the silence. "Why did you call me here, Charles?"

Charles sighed, an exasperated sound, and he shook his head at Erik. "You know why, Erik. That stunt you pulled at the White House..."

It was the same old argument again, and as unsurprised as Erik was, a small part of him was still disappointed that this was what caused Charles to break months of radio silence, and a familiar rage rose up from within him.

"Stunt?! I have to make a stand, Charles. These are our people being experimented on, tortured like they were nothing more than animals! I have to stop this." _Since you couldn't be bothered to do it yourself_ , the words left unsaid between them, that Charles had no chance of hearing because of Erik's helmet, although Erik thought that Charles might have heard them anyway, the thought so strong it was almost tangible in the air between them.

Charles shot back immediately, "And you think the best way to do this is through war? Because there is no question about this, Erik, this is the only way your little stunt will end. You're bringing war to us."

"Maybe war is the only way society will ever change," Erik bit out.

"Maybe war will endanger us even more, paint a huge target on your backs. Have you ever thought about that, Erik?"

It had never changed, this gulf between them. No matter how much they had loved each other back then, it was never enough to fill up the gaping chasm between them.

He looked Charles squarely in the eye, fighting to keep his voice even. "So is this a courtesy call to let me know you're going to side with the humans then?"

Charles shook his head and looked away briefly. "No. Not with them."

Erik asked in a mocking tone, "Oh, so you're going to preach integration then?"

Charles sighed, and there was a flash of regret in his eyes before it was replaced with conviction and resolve. "No. I'm staying out of this stupid war, Erik. I won't play a part in it."

"What?!" Erik was stunned, and for the first time he felt incandescent rage over Charles. Even though he knew that he and Charles had differences in ideology that they would never be able to reconcile, that they would never be able to agree on the mutant-human divide, he had always thought that Charles was just as dedicated to the cause as Erik was. That their methods might be different, but ultimately they shared the same vision, that of a better world for mutants.

"So you're just not doing anything?" he hissed out venomously.

There was no hesitation or doubt when Charles met Erik's eyes. "I have something more important to do."

Erik was incredulous. "More important than the safety and future of our people? I thought you were better than that, Charles." There was deep disappointment swirling in his gut, because this wasn't the Charles that he once knew. "Do you even know what the humans have done? The atrocities they have committed? Just last week we rescued a little girl, barely seven years. She was strapped..."

"Believe me," Charles interrupted him, eyes suddenly blazing and tone vehement, "I know exactly what those research facilities have done to mutants."

Erik shook his head, still disbelieving. "Then why? If you know, then how can you not do anything?"

"As I said, I have other priorities now."

The differences between them was truly insurmountable now.

"Why have you called me here tonight, Charles?" Erik asked again after a long period of silence, tired and defeated.

"I just want to ask you to consider your plan of action, please. This will only lead to war, and don't you think we have seen enough of war for a lifetime?" Charles pleaded.

"I have seen enough of my race being captured, and tortured, and treated as less than what we are."

"Erik please," Charles implored, the expression on his face pained as he reached out for Erik.

Erik brushed him off, stepping out of his reach. "No. I'm done here." _I'm done with you_. "If you can't be bothered to fight for our kind, I'll fight twice as hard for them. And I'll do it _my_ way. Don't try to arrange a meeting with me again, Charles, I don't want to hear what you have to say."

And with that parting shot he walked away from Charles, resolve and determination and heartbreak burning within him.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be Charles meeting David for the first time.
> 
> I'll love to hear what people think of the story so far!


	4. Life-changing moments (October 1964)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of child experimentation and off-screen character death in this chapter.

* * *

It was October 1964, exactly two years after Charles Xavier's life had completely changed.

Two years ago, Charles had been self-assured and arrogant. He had thought his telepathy was enough for him to know everything about the people around him, and he thought he knew the best way forward. He had his sister with him, a lover in Erik, and a team of people with special powers just like him, and together they were going to save the world and change it for the better.

You always fall the hardest when you least expect it, and Charles fell hard on October 1962. It left him paralyzed on a beach, and the two people he loved most leaving him. Two years on, there had been many changes. Although Charles still felt the ache of Erik and Raven's leaving in his heart, every day he grew more and more accustomed to his wheelchair, and together with the rag-tag team of people who had loyally and steadfastly stayed with him, he was still accomplishing his goal of helping mutants.

Like now, where Charles sat together with the rest of his team in a large van in the dead of night as they drove to a facility suspected of holding mutants. "Charles?" Moira asked, and Charles focused himself back on the here and now, bringing two fingers to his temple as he concentrated on putting all the non-mutants in the facility to sleep.

Hank parked the van in front of a building that looked more like an abandoned warehouse than a research facility. Alex looked around them with a raised eyebrow, and asked Hank skeptically, "Are you sure this is the right place?"

"It is the coordinates that Cerebro gave us," Hank, still in his beast form, growled out.

Alex raised his hands in a conciliatory manner. "I'm just saying, it doesn't exactly look like a place where you'll be housing anyone, let alone a research facility that's supposed to be holding.. how many mutants did you pick up with Cerebro?"

"A 100 or so," Charles said absently while transferring himself into his wheelchair. "Although I can't really sense them right now, they probably locked the mutants behind some sort of telepathy blocking technology."

"But you're sure you put all the research staff to sleep?" Sean asked, as always not comfortable with confrontation. 

"Yes," Charles confirmed, and they made their way to the front door of the facility, which was flanked by sleeping guards snoring away. Hank activated his device, and in a short moment all the security systems and cameras in the building was disabled, and the door opened easily for them.

Charles wheeled himself inside, everyone else following after, and they got to work. By now the operation was seamless, as they had worked together as a team infiltrating mutant research facilities for more than a year now. Some of the mutants they released stayed, although most left, suspicious of even the little hint of kindness, and Charles hoped they would find peace somewhere, somehow. They had also rescued mutant children, including Alex's own brother Scott, and it always broke Charles heart to see how lost and broken the children were. 

He knew Erik and Raven were doing the same thing with their Brotherhood, and often it was a race to see who would get there first, Charles and his X-Men who would leave behind as little bloodshed as possible, or the Brotherhood and the carnage they left behind.

Anyway, there was no time to be thinking of Erik and Raven now, not in the middle of an operation.

"Let's do this our usual way," Charles said, and they split up into their usual groups - Moira heading off down a hallway with Hank and Sean while Charles went in the opposite direction with Alex, the five of them working together to sweep the area for mutants, Charles kept a light telepathic monitoring of the other group so that they were always in contact.

However, they could not find any mutants. Every room they broke into was either empty or filled with sleeping humans. Finally, they regrouped back at the front hallway.

"They must all be kept underground," Moira said, "it's the only way this makes sense."

"But how do we get there?" Sean asked, and a discussion broke up over how to access the hidden areas of the facility.

It was then that Charles felt something fleeting brush against his mind, a faint telepathic touch from someone else. Over the last few years, Charles had encountered a few other telepaths, Emma Frost and other psionic mutants they'd found and released, but there was something... different about this telepathic mind he just felt. Something familiar, and yet not.

"Charles, is there any useful information you can get from the minds of the staff?" someone asked him, but the question didn't register, as Charles wheeled himself down the hallway, following the trace of the other mind even as the others followed him in confusion.

They navigated through twists and turns and secret doors and elevators, Charles all the while still feeling the occasional erratic brush of that strangely familiar telepathy against his mind, until it finally brought them far underground, in front of a door that was heavily reinforced with visible security. This close, Charles could sense that the door and the walls surrounding it were lined with the same material as Erik's helmet, designed to block psionics out or keep them in, and he wondered how strong the imrisonped telepath must be in order for their telepathy to penetrate the material. 

Hank went to work disabling the security systems on the door, and the device whirled and beeped for a long time before the latch of the door finally opened.

Hank moved to open the door but Charles stopped him with a hand. "No, wait, let me go in first."

"What? Charles this isn't a good idea," Hank protested but Charles ignored him, feeling himself drawn to the room even though he didn't understand why.

Waving the others back, Charles opened the door and wheeled himself inside the dimly-lit room. 

A young boy, only about seven or eight years old, sat on a small bed in the tiny room, huddled in tight, knees drawn up to his chest. He said nothing, only raised his head to look at Charles, and the same familiar telepathic presence brushed against Charles's mind again, but this time much, much stronger, and Charles found himself lost in an avalanche of memories and thoughts. 

_Waking up in a tiny room, restrained on a table... People with masks and scrubs poking at him, electrodes and injections... Always being terrified and alone, fear so strong it led him to retreat in his own mind, allowing other, once dormant personalities to take root and grow, each of them with their own abilities and quirks... So many tests and examinations, probing at the limits of what he can... Fear, fear, fear, and it's always so_ noisy _inside._

There weren't a hundred mutants here in this facility, Charles realized now. Only one special one. There were thoughts and emotions from the others in the boy's mind as well, and Charles tumbled through them all, feeling a maelstrom of fear and rage and confusion and vengeance, felt detachment and curiosity and rage from the different personalities at his intrusion into the sanctuary of their mind, but Charles was helpless against it, could only ride the tide. 

Deeper in still, and Charles saw the hazy form of a woman associated with love and safety and _Mom_. He felt the mounting horror of an armed attack and the sudden death of the woman, her mind abruptly and permanently silenced, and the subsequent backlash and splintering of a mind lost in grief and terror. The woman's face became clearer as more memories filtered in, years of joy and happiness, but never anyone else, just Gabrielle and the boy, and Charles was so immersed in the memories of the boy that it took a while to realize that the woman's name came from him, that he recognized her.

Fast on the heels of that realization came another one, and Charles finally realized why the boy's mind had felt so familiar to him.

"Charles! Charles!" he heard someone shouting, and Charles jerked back into his own mind, realizing that Hank was shaking him. Charles found himself bent forward in his wheelchair, head in his hands, while the rest of his team surrounded him, all of them projecting worry and fear as they warily eyed the young boy still sitting on his bed, staring unblinkingly at all of them.

"Are you alright?" Hank asked frantically. "You weren't responding at all! What happened just now?"

"I...." Charles tried to speak and found that his voice was hoarse as he took in harsh breaths. "I..." he tried again and he broke on a sob. He raised a trembling hand to wipe at his face, and realized his face was wet with tears.

He lifted his face to look into familiar blue eyes, an exact reflection of his own, but with defiance and brokenness swirling within. The boy's mind brushed against him again, as familiar as his own mind. And yet different, because that mind was only part of a fragmented whole, just one out of a hundred other personalities clamoring within the boy, each of them battling for dominance.

He tried to speak again, but he found himself still at a loss of words. The only thing he was capable of doing was to continue staring at the eyes of the boy, eyes that had to have come from Charles because Gabrielle's eyes had been green. 

It was October 1964, and Charles Xavier's life had just irrevocably changed.

* * *


End file.
